Alfredology
by BreakfastCereal
Summary: My 1st fic. A mysterious discovery is made in the sands of the Egyptian desert. Scholars from around the globe flock to study it. Among them are Arthur Kirkland and Alfred Jones. Rated M for guyxguy action, language, and things to come in future chapters.
1. Fist Encounter

Hi guys! This is my first fanfiction, and I finally gathered the courage to upload it, because, to be honest, I'm a bit insecure about my writing. Please tell me what you think and censure as much as you like! I absolutely love feedback!

Pairing: UKUS/USUK (expect a lot of 'switching it up' in later chapters, as well as potential hints at side pairings.)

Rating: M for "pee-pee friction pleasure"... whoopee. Plus, I'll be poking fun at things like religion, so if you're easily offended - I suggest you don't read it.

Genre: For now, it's just some cute little funny thing... but expect some action and adventure later on. Oh, and sex. Yes... lots and lots of sex.

Hetalia and its characters belong to Hidekaz Himaruya. This is simply a fanwork.

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><p>It was a discovery that could change history as they knew it. Results returned from the labs, and the green light was lit. A gigantic investigative effort was put through with help of the Egyptian government, and quicker than the speed of light, professors, students, scientists, and journalists alike from prestigious universities across the world flocked to the dig site like sharks to a school of fish. It was something no one could put a word to just yet, and so the discovery was nameless, and those scholars were encouraged to label it for themselves. It was chaotic, to say the least.<p>

Amongst the "organized" pandemonium was Arthur Kirkland, a professor of history from Oxford, who was there for obvious reasons. His passion, of course.

A tall, pale man opened the door of Arthur's car, and as the Englishman stepped outside, he was immediately struck by the burning Egyptian sun. He felt like he was on fire. But alas, they were the flames of intrigue as he'd dubbed it. Nothing could get in between him and his research for the next month – or so he thought.

"Welcome to Egypt, Professor Kirkland. I do apologize for the unpleasant weather." The tall man said with a heavy Russian accent, noticing Arthur was wincing under the heat.

"Thank you! Oh, and don't worry about the weather." Arthur shrugged. "I've brought enough sunscreen to last the both of us a decade."

"Good, good." He said, guiding the man through crowds of other fanatics of the sorts. "Let me show you to your trailer. You'll be sharing with UCLA's forensic supervisor, I do hope you don't mind."

"Not at all." Arthur smiled, pausing. "Oh, I'm very sorry, I have forgotten to ask for your name,mind telling me? I'd enjoy having you as an acquaintance." he asked.

"Ivan. Ivan Braginski." The Russian smiled. "Pleasure to meet you!" He held out his hand, and the two shook on their newfound companionship.

They walked a little while longer, past the crowd of bumbling enthusiast and to a field of campers, RVs, tents, trucks, and the like. Ivan led him to a particularly polished looking trailer, and stopped at the door. "This is where you'll be staying. I do hope you find it accommodating." He said, then dropped a key into Arthur's hand. "I'll leave you to settle in now." And with that, he walked away.

"Nice fellow." Arthur mumbled to himself. He opened the door with ease, as it was not locked, then dragged his bags into the living space, only to see what looked like a college kid sitting on the couch in cartoon boxers, eating ice cream directly from a carton and staring blankly at a TV screen, then redirecting his attention to the doorway.

"Yo!" The man shouted. "You must be Professor Arty." He dropped his ice cream on the floor, got up, and walked over to hug the Englishman. Arthur's eyes widened at the impending invasion of personal space, but it was too late. "Whaddup, bro?"

"Uh, if you don't mind me asking… w-who exactly are you?" He asked, troubled by the lack of the man's clothing, and distance from his own body. He awkwardly split the hug. "A-And why did you just hug me?"

"Dunno, man. I just felt like hugging you, you looked kinda lonely. Like a guy that needs a hug." The kid babbled nasally. "Oh, and the name's Alfred Jones. It looks like we'll be roomies for the next few months!" He said, flailing his arms up into the air. It was then that Arthur realized Alfred had bunny slippers as well as knee-high argyle socks on to compliment his SpongeBob boxers.

_Rather childish of him. But I best not judge a book by its cover, I suppose._

Arthur continued scanning, to try and figure out what this kid was about. He had golden hair with bangs that perked up and swooped down to his eyebrows, his thick-rim Ray Bans lining his bubbly blue eyes, and Arthur couldn't help but admit – a very, very provocative torso.

"S-So then…" Arthur gulped, trying to hide that he was clearly aroused. "You're the UCLA supervisor, aren't you?" Arthur asked.

"Yup! We were gonna have a professor come over here – but none of them were up for it, since the super bowl is coming up, and no one wants to miss that! So they sent moi! Odd, I know, but I will be graduating in a few months, and this is a great way to get a name in the field. Plus, I already have plenty of college credits, so I can graduate when I get back!" He said, enthusiasm pushing every word out more spastically than the previous.

Alfred suddenly remembered he left his ice cream on the ground and bent down to pick up the carton. Arthur couldn't help but stare at the American's posterior, squeezed into that small cotton garment of his. He immediately felt his face burn more than the Egyptian sun could ever hope to.

The student popped back up moments later with Ben and Jerry's in hand, and plopped himself onto the couch, which was littered with pizza boxes, beer bottles, a bong, and soda cans. Alfred patted the empty space next to him and tried to coax Arthur to sit and watch an episode of _Dragon Ball Z _with him.

"I-I'd rather not. I have work to do, you see. And anyway, I'm starved."

"Dude, I've got some pizza right here." He pulled out a greasy, gooey slice of horror out of an old box resting on the floor. "No need to walk all the way over to the food tent. Besides, the catering people are a drag, all they ever serve is pasta – spaghetti, alfredo, ravioli, doesn't matter, they're fucking pastaphiles, and I like variety in my life!" He ranted.

"F-fine." Arthur cautiously sat on the couch and took a slice of pepperoni and death with a strong resolve. He took a small bite out of it, and his face lit up as the rich taste of cheese and tomato melted in his mouth – so much for horror and death. "H-How did you even manage to find pizza out here? There's no civilization for miles."

"Egyptians, man. They must have magic carpets or something." He took a big spoonful of Rocky Road into his mouth. "I call 'em with little hope of getting any goods, right…" He spoke as best he could whilst chewing, his cheeks stuffed with icy goodness, "And here they bring me anything from the city I want for a reasonable price. They're great!" Alfred exclaimed, swallowing the cold substance, and letting out a deep _aaaaah_ as it slid down his throat.

After what felt like a century of awkward staring, Alfred invited the man to watch an episode of _Dragon Ball _with him.

"I don't get it. What's the big deal about the quantity of his power being greater than nine thousand?" Arthur asked, frustrated with his confusion. "This show is nothing but screaming and disproportionate humans."

Alfred laughed. "So, Arty, you got a girlfriend or anything?" He questioned out of the blue.

"N-no…" Arthur said meekly. "Not quite my, er, line of work… if you know what I mean."

"Really?" Alfred squeaked. "A handsome guy like you, not smooth with the ladies?" Alfred giggled.

"T-That's not what I meant, er – never mind…" Arthur squeezed the bridge of his temple, pondering just how dense this man was.

"Oooooh!" Alfred said, as if he just grew a third eye and solved the puzzle of the universe. "So you're g- yeah, I get it." He giggled. "It's all good, man." He said, wrapping his arm around the Englishman's shoulders. "Soooo, you got a boyfriend then?"

Arthur sighed. "No, not really. I haven't the time, you see." He laughed a little, quite bitterly. Why was he telling Alfred all this? Was he really all that comfortable with the man? He needed to know more about him, surely. Age was a good place to start. "S-So how old are you, if you don't mind me asking..."

"22" Alfred blurted, followed with a loud burp. He scratched his balls, and then rubbed his nose.

_Jesus Christ, he's a bloody child!_

"You?"

"Excuse me?"

"You… how old are yah'?"

"I hardly think you need to know. But if you insist…" He gulped. He really wasn't proud of his age, in fact, he was rather conscious about it. "I'm… 33." He tried to laugh it off, but it just sounded awkward.

"No way, man! You're like a foxy granpa or something!" Alfred tightened his grip on Arthur.

"Foxy granpa?" _The fuck_ was all Arthur could think. He wasn't _that_ old.

Alfred laughed. "Oh course! You're like an old guy, but you have this raw sexual magnetism about 'cha. Maybe I'm just not used to the accent, but hell, you're pretty damn handsome, bro." He said shamelessly, scooping more ice cream and shoving it down his throat.

Arthur felt molested, and yet, oddly flattered. "T-Thanks…"

Eventually, Arthur had unpacked, showered, and changed into some clothing he dubbed versatile – he truly had no clue what his newfound roommate had in store for him tonight. He slipped into a pair of light khakis and a button down shirt, and surrendered.

He carefully removed his contact lenses, the same he had done hundreds of nights before, and to cure the blurriness, placed his rimless bifocals over his head. He looked over his shoulders, to examine the room Alfred had ever so-slightly introduced him to.

_This has to be the only room in here. So then… why is there one bed? That Jones bloke can't possibly be willing to sleep on that couch of his. Hell, I'd dread even sitting on it a second time…_

He looked down at his wrist. 9:05.

_Alfred told me to be out by 9. Does he want to use the shower? Or…_

Arthur Emerged from the room to see a curious bunch sitting on the floor of the living space, "Um, Alfred, mind telling me who this lot is?" He demanded, resting his hands on his hips.

"Oh, hey Arty!"

Arthur glared back at the nickname. He had problems tolerating such terms of endearment.

"These guys? They're the forensic crew! We share the lab, so I invited them to a welcome party for yah'!" Alfred exclaimed, in his original garb, only with an added wife beater. He signaled the Englishman to sit down in the little circle of Indian-style sitting hippies, and he almost unwillingly complied, "Guys! Introduce yourselves!"

"Alright! I'll start off!" A shriek emerged from an intimidating-looking pale man. "The name's Gilbert Weilschmidt!" The albino shouted in a heavy German accent. "I'm from the University of Berlin with my brother... who's a total pussy for not coming to this kick-ass party!" He lifted his glass, which chimed when it hit Alfred's. Sinister laughter emerged from the both of them.

_Shit. Party. I don't like the sound of that. Not one bit. Not at least when he says it._

"Ho-ho! I'm next! Hello! I'm Im Yun Soo! From Seoul!" A short dark haired man howled joyfully.

_He doesn't look like he could do much harm, but still…_

Arthur's eyes dragged onwards in the circle to arrive at a very large breasted woman, who seemed a little out of place in the boisterous mess.

"Oh, uh, h-hello there… professor. I'm Katyusha Braginskaya. F-from the Ukraine." She said nervously.

_And next… _

"Mathias Køhler. Hells yeah!" And with that, the Denmarkian high-fived his neighbour, a woman who had quite a dominatrix vibe to her.

She laughed sadistically, eyeing the Englishman. "Elizaveta Héderváry, Berlin." And with that, she licked her lips and sent a wink to the now cringing Arthur Kirkland.

He averted his eyes to a fellow with some actual pigment, more than Alfred, who was rather tan, in fact. "Hola, I'm Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, but you can call me Tony!" He was a little less vicious, but still dangerously out-going, in Arthur's opinion.

And finally, the seventh seal of the apocalypse was released. Arthur's eyes widened as he sat and withered in fear at the sight. It was Satan himself, in a young girl. What looked like a college freshman.

"The name..." She growled, fire in her ice cold eyes. "is Natalia Arlovskaya." Arthur never claimed to read auras, but he was getting odd vibes from her.

The two awkwardly stared at each other until Alfred abruptly butted in with the nights plans. "We will be playing a game I like to call _Temple-Strip-Run."_ He announced. "I do assume you all have iPhones." He said, pulling his out and waving it around. "So, here's how you play!" He introduced the basic game play to the group, "And the stripping part comes in like so..." He let go of the screen, letting his character fall and die. "First person to die has to strip a garment. And we play till' someone's naked!" He said with a sadistic trill in every syllable. He redirected his view over to Arthur "I thought the Temple Run game was very appropriate for our current situation. And, I assume you have already downloaded the app."

Arthur sighed. "Yes." He rolled his eyes. "My niece downloaded it on my phone, and I don't really know how to delete it..." He tried laughing at himself, which didn't work so well for a cynic like him. So he helplessly scratched the back of his head until everyone stopped staring at him like he was fresh bait.

Alfred nodded, and turned to face the rest of the circle. "Phones out, and... 3... 2... 1!"

The eight frantically tapped the screens of their thin devices. Something Arthur always considered rather daft, but nevertheless, he didn't want to end up naked in a van with a bunch of college hippies. Unfortunately, looking at the mad determination on all of their faces, he could tell they were practically prodigies of this trivial application – and he was doomed.

It wasn't long before his hand slipped and the avatar ran right into a tree. He pretended not to notice, hopefully no one else would. But, the damned device unleashed a foul screech; one the kids all knew meant they had a looser. They all paused their games and glared at Arthur.

He wore shame well. Or so they all thought. Hell, they still think.

"F-Fine... since it's what you all want..." He grew red, and slowly unbuttoned his shirt, tossing it aside after sliding it off his thin arms.

Their faces all wore different genres of the same lust.

_I knew I should've shaved that off damned garden path when I had the chance. They're all staring now..._

Arthur couldn't do anything but sit there as the others' eyes examined his body, judging every inch of the bare flesh. Oh well, it was only his upper body. He convinced himself he'd win the next round. But, he was wrong.

Yet again, all eyes were on him.

"Do I have to? I mean, can I not have a handicap or something? I'm quite bad at this game you see, and..."

"It's part of the rules!" Elizaveta protested, mid-Arthur's bluff. "Now..." She raised one eyebrow. "Go on, off with those trousers." She coaxed. Arthur merely grunted and complied, babbling curses throughout the process, but, within a matter of seconds, Alfred and his friends had stripped this man of all but his Union Jack-clad boxer briefs.

_Fine, fine, as long as I have my underwear on, I'm fine. I just can't lose again._

_Turn left, jump, turn right... this is easy! Perhaps I'm getting adjusted to it now. I can win- or at least not lose. Yes, this is elementary indeed._

A few minutes passed, and Arthur successfully navigated the temple for his pant's sake. Suddenly, however, the running became more rapid; running and jumping had to be better coordinated. It wasn't long before he found himself struggling.

"No, no, no, NO!" He shouted as he lost his 'footing.' He hung his head the moment the monkeys sang. Yet again, eyes eagerly flocked to him.

He sat there, still, gulped, and finally slipped his thumbs between the elastic of his boxers and his hips. They remained there, shaking as he gradually expanded the distance from his flesh. He tensely dragged them down. The further they'd go, the redder he grew - the crowd almost as deep a crimson as he was when he finally kicked the shorts off his ankles.

"There!" He snarled. He wouldn't admit it, but he was pleased by their reactions. They seemed impressed, and so a boastful smile emerged on his face. "Now that I'm completely naked... who's next?" He smirked, raising an eyebrow.

He heard booming laughter from Alfred – a laugh that wiped the smirk right off Arthur's face. "I think we're done here." His hysterical laughter regressed to a giggle. "You're naked: Mission complete!"

Arthur glared for what felt like hours at the boy, his acidic lime eyes burning all that he stared at. Alfred made the cheekiest face possible; stared right back. No words were spoken, but many a message exchanged. The two of them were surprisingly fluent in eye contact. And as green burnt, the rich blue calmed. And Arthur found his anger dissolve into an azure ocean of calm.

"The night's not over, though!" Alfred smiled. The parabola of his smile calculated that he wasn't possibly letting Arthur redress any time soon. And maybe a hint of arousal, but Arthur dismissed that simply to be safe. He'd reconsider that variable when they were alone, though.

Suddenly, emerging from behind Alfred, the beast of many heads, now spinning in the middle of this small circle of theirs, and he saw a potential collision.

As the bottle spun round and round, it landed on the poor crying woman. And before Arthur could associate a name to the act, Elizaveta had taken Katyusha by the mouth.

The men cheered, Arthur just sort of sat there, shivering in all his nakedness. Again, the old beer bottle span, landed, and Katyusha nervously pecked that boisterous German on the lips, much to Gilbert's pleasure. His hands hovered over her breasts, tempted to touch, but had the decency not to.

A few more spins, a few more meaningless kisses, and now it was Alfred's turn. He had just received it from what Arthur considered Satan herself in the flesh, when he flicked the empty Budweiser bottle into a hazardous twirl. Around and around, the bottle went. Arthur's heart skipping a beat every time the neck pointed towards him.

On one of its rotations, it ceased moving. The neck of the bottle directly pointing towards Arthur, and his heart beat to the rhythm of the screaming masses. He had seen Wormwood, the comet to destroy it all, but he remained calm.

"Y-You ready for this, man?" Alfred said, pulling him out of his thought train of metaphor. He'd really need to stop doing that, he'd just been studying the book of Revelation, despite not being a religious man himself (he was quite the opposite) and had found it dominate his every thought. The end can do that. But so can a beginning, in fact, even more so. And a beginning is exactly what he felt pressed against his lips. A spark, an explosion, and a cooling universe - Arthur felt transported with only a teasing kiss.

Using the language of eyes again, he begged Alfred not to stop. Green algae now infesting pools of blue, oxygen began pumping through them and their new universe.

_Dammit, I'm not even a scientist. What's wrong with me tonight?_

_... But he is. He. Him. Alfred. The man kissing me right now. Dear lord, if you're real... which, I doubt... but still, don't... don't... let this end. Just pause time, if even on the quantum level, freeze this moment... or somehow, let it last..._

Arthur was suddenly hit with the realization that the kiss had been going on for a significant amount of time, and had escalated from a silly game to something burning with lust and desire. Was Alfred into him? And more importantly, where these hippies just going to sit there and watch with their phones flashing away.

_He can't be. He said it himself, I'm a granpa. Then again, he also mentioned raw sexual magnetism... either way... I just want to sack all these kids and take this Alfred character right now... careful!... you're naked and people are watching you... don't get too carried away... yet._

Gently, Arthur pushed on Alfred's chest, hoping the younger man would understand that he wanted to resume this later, and their lips separated ever-so-awkwardly. Turning around, they saw a mix of shock and arousal on the faces of Alfred's colleagues.

A few lips leaked a breath held back from whatever impression they were under.

Arthur cleared his throat. "I, uh, I'm going to retire for the night. Y-You guys have fun..." And with that, he slowly boosted himself up off the ground, and casually walked towards the bedroom door. He received a few goodnights, and a silence that spoke volumes via Alfred; with a stare that could convey a message like a book can. Arthur felt a chill down his spine as he looked back at the group of rag-tag college hipsters, said his final goodnights, and shut the door behind him.

Feeling no need to put clothes on, he hopped into bed, slammed his face in the pillow, and without a second thought, dozed off into a blank sleep.

No dream, no thought, just rest. That is, until, he felt a pushing at his side, and a soft whisper. It was a voice he'd heard before, but not familiar in tone. After a moment of wake, he'd deduced it was Alfred.

"Arty..." He whispered. "Roll over. This is my side of the bed." He pushed one more time, Arthur unresponsive due to loss in his own thoughts. A light shove, and the Professor finally made room. Back in reality, he decided to interrogate the boy, ignoring the fact that his fears were confirmed, and they were sharing a bed.

"Alfred, do tell... what was that whole kissing affair about?" He questioned, as nonchalantly as he possibly could, still somewhat asleep.

"Dunno. It just sorta... happened." Alfred smiled. "Like, it's an aura thing really." He said, dragging his words, and bringing the statement to a halt.

"Do go on." Arthur demanded.

"Well, you know, like... ... ... I just sorta feel people's vibes, and I act off them. It's a matter of existentialism really. And so, I judged the situation, and I... kinda reacted on instinct..." The American cogitated.

"You bit my bloody lip." Arthur protested.

"It's a matter of desire, my frie..."

"—Look!" Arthur interrupted. "What you're trying to say is that you're physically attracted to me, am I getting it right? There's no need to sprinkle such a casual statement with cryptic hippy speech." The Englishman ranted; a slip of cockney escaping in his tirade. "Now..." He breathed heavily, nearing Alfred who was lying in bed comfortably. "Fucking do what you did again!"

Arthur pounced on top of the American, violently pressing his lips against the other's, and sucking Alfred into the kiss, who replied by stealing dominance immediately. Arthur hummed at the feeling of the other man's tongue exploring the surface of his own.

And as quickly as it began, Alfred ended it. Closing their exchange with another bite to the lower lip, he parted them, only receiving a look of confusion and rejection from the man on top of him.

"Look, Arthur, I-uh... I think we should get to know each other a little first..." He suggested, gesturing Arthur to get off of him.

"T-That's a good idea. I do apologize for taking things a little far..." Arthur said, shamefully.

Alfred smiled, cupping one of Arthur's angular cheekbones, "It's fine, really. I started it anyway," he said. He then paused for a moment before continuing, "We'll most definitely pick this up later, anyway," he mentioned suggestively as ever, and smiling in the same fashion.

_I don't get it. If he can predict we're going to shag, why not just save the pain and do it now?_

_Oh, I get it... _

Arthur rolled his body away from the already asleep Alfred.

_... ... he must be looking for something more. _

He shut his eyes.

_He'd be the first._

Arthur awoke feeling rather serene considering the previous night. It was the first time in years he actually wanted to get out of bed and go to work. He could hear Alfred outside, fiddling with what sounded like a coffee machine. And that gave him all the more motivation to get up.

He quickly swung himself out of bed and threw on a robe, opening the door and walking out of the bedroom in a very youthful fashion he used to doubt he still was capable of.

"Good morning Alfred." He smirked as he saw the student attempting to concoct a cup of Joe with a rather peculiar looking device, instruction manuals in every language ever written pooling around his ankles. He had on his lab jacket, however the sharp looked was dulled with torn jeans rolled up to his knees and a v-neck with some girly cartoon loosely hanging over his torso. It was practically impossible for this man to look somewhat professional, Arthur reasoned.

_P-Ponies? Is he a loon?_

The American let out a thunderous gust of a yawn. "Mornin', Arty," He paused to rub his eyes, "You get a good night's sleep?"

"Actually," Arthur replied. "It's the best sleep I've had in months!" He lied, however – it was closer to years. But he wasn't going to outright admit that.

"Good, good."Alfred smiled. "Sorry if I seem a bit bitter. I'm not a morning guy if you know what I mean..."

"It's fine... neither am I."

"Then you'll be needing some coffee, my good man," Alfred exclaimed, energy somehow instantaneously revitalized.

"Oh, well if you insist... Black would be lovely, thanks."Arthur smiled, picking up a copy of The New York times that was resting on the dinette table. He skimmed through the headlines, realizing he was glad to have escaped from all the bustle of the first world, and then wondering how Alfred even got his hands on it. "How did you ship this out here? I mean, this is today's paper..." Arthur questioned.

"I have people." Alfred bragged, "People with helicopters and a lot of free time on their hands."

They botch chuckled.

After a short morning exchange, it was time for them to disperse to their fields of practice. Arthur had been placed on an investigative team along with scholars from various other regions of the world. On the list was Kiku Honda, a prestigious anthropologist from the University of Tokyo, and Roderich Edelstein, a supervisor from the University of Berlin and fellow historian.

Upon meeting, handshakes and formal introductions were exchanged – much unlike Arthur's meeting with the American boy, clad in only underwear and spread out on a dirty couch. It was then he realized how much he fancied informalities, though that he'd never admit to such a taste. He instead focused on enjoying the presence of the more socially unadventurous. It was more comfortable, but less amusing – which he found suitable for the occasion.

They were led by a silent and ever-so-curious man to the site: the most intriguing discovery of the century, or so it had been said to be.

It was a metallic disc of the sorts, lying in the desert sands, reflecting the sun in every which direction. It didn't, however, resemble anything of Egyptian architecture.

_I was not even so much as briefed on exactly what this was, and now looking at it, I can see why. This was kept rather confidential... Oh, entirely so. It could change everything. _

"We have commissioned carbon dating of the structure, sending in some metal samples of the exterior. The team is here, today, still finalizing some of the tests – but most of the results are written here..."Looking down at the paper, the curious man continued. "According to this data, what we're seeing here consists of materials not found on this earth. Even so, it has landed here approximately 10,000 years ago. We can assume this due to sand samples we had found clinging to the slightly magnetic exterior, and carbon dating the deepest layer. It is believed to have been a ship of the sorts, ferrying certain artefacts across the ancient world. It contains idols from Incan civilization, Chinese writings predating even the Xia, Descriptive Indian writings depicting what we believe to be alien abductions, and what appears to be the remains of-" The man stared at the paper, speechlessly. It was as if he'd just seen the face of God – drunken with a drawing of an erect penis on his cheek and _I'm stoopid_ written across his forehead. He gulped, and continued. "a corpse, one not completely human, resembling a little grey man with large eyes, and no mouth. We have sent it to the lab for an autopsy; you are free to examine it there." Then froze after reading it, initially shocked, he walked away, leaving the group to examine the ship on their own.

"Well, let's go in. Shall we?" Arthur asked, breaking the silence which followed the rather bold statement just read to them.

"Hai. I agree." Kiku replied, and the group apprehensively entered the ancient vehicle through a doorway which seemed to have had its doors torn out. The remaining bindings suggested automatic doors.

They were surrounded what looked like the interior of a ship thousands of years beyond the technology of their own, yet had been sitting in the sand for millennia. Arthur, as well as the others, were initially intrigued by what they saw.

Arthur quickly scanned the inside, the interior being one complete circle, it was easy to get a general glimpse. His attention was quickly drawn to what appeared to be a dashboard, with switches, and buttons, and all sorts of mechanisms embedded on what seemed to be a control unit "T-The writing, it's in Sumerian." His eyes widened. "But over here, it's in Sanskrit," he said observing the second control panel. "So, we can presume both languages have astronomical roots, and our alien visitors were just as multicultural as we are today." He felt tears about to run down his face, "This is marvellous!" He exclaimed.

"Yes, and have you seen this?" Roderich added, bringing every one's attention to a shining display mounted to the wall near the entrance.

"T-The Rosetta stone?" Arthur's eyes widened.

"Indeed." The Austrian agreed.

"It's diffidently the text, but it's written on a chrome tablet. How queer..."

"You know what this means, right?"

Arthur nodded. "Alien interference in human history, I presume."

Furthering into the ship, they came across many a shock, and quite the intrigue. So many commonplace theories of human development were being rewritten, and overridden, becoming more complex, and questions arose out of the most basic facts. The idea that everything could be rewritten crossed their minds even more than the thought of all the money they'd make, and that's saying something.

"We should head home." Kiku eventually suggested. "The sun will be setting soon, and with political tension the way it is, even if the site is secured, it is wise to be inside."

Everyone silently agreed and made way to their shelters. Arthur let out a sigh as he climbed the stairs to the door of his living space. All the information he gathered was sinking in still, and his knees were practically shaking. The more he thought, the more questions popped up. It was a historic, and even a scientific jack pot. He wondered if Alfred would be as enthusiastic about the discovery as he was.

He entered to find Alfred on the couch with a box of Chinese food in hand, noodles draping from his mouth, and greasy chopsticks pulling slippery foodstuffs out of the carton. His eyes gleamed up at Arthur as he walked in.

Despite the fact the man was wearing footies - Arthur's attention wasn't firstly drawn to the young man. It was, instead, directed to his partner, sitting next to him on the couch with a tray of sushi on his lap.

"Uh... Alfred. That littler, er... grey thing. What is it?" Arthur twitched.

"Live specimen." He smiled. "Found him wandering the desert looking for food. Apparently he was abandoned by his parents here. As price for letting him stay here, he's going to give us all the information we need." Alfred said oh-so-nonchalantly, and then slurped some noodles from between his chopsticks.

"Oh..." Arthur stared in intrigue, holding back his jaw from dropping like a fool's would. Having not processed everything today, he might've fainted from just the sight of the small being eating sushi with no mouth, however he was almost prepared for it, considering the biggest question floating around in his head after viewing all the alien scenery was _will they return?_

"So this is the professor you were talking about?" A somewhat blank yet almost cute voice asked.

Alfred nodded, and the foreign creature turned towards Arthur, and practically with a smile, said, "Nice to meet you! I am Tony. I am here to answer all your questions, and I can only assume you have many. Your species has always been the type to ask questions."

"Oh." Arthur smiled back, still a little shocked from the calibre of the situation, but nevertheless, grinned. "Professor Kirkland. But, considering you're most likely a more advanced being than I," he laughed, trying to crack a joke, however, no one else laughed, "You can just call me Arthur." Tony nodded in return. "... Alfred already calls me 'Arty,' anyway."Arthur mumbled.

"Hey, Tony, tell him about that time you met Hitler and slapped him in the face, or about your pal Jesus, oh and don't forget to mention how you helped the Doctor save your home planet."

_Never mind Hitler, never mind Jesus, HE KNOWS THE DOCTOR!_

_... wait... I know Hitler was real, but... _

He decided it was safer to hide his obsession with Doctor Who for the time being, and focus on something historically relevant.

"Jesus? As in the bible Jesus?" Arthur raised an eyebrow. Being the Richard Dawkins fanboy he was, he never believed the biblical figure to be more than a mere man... but alien, that spoke whole worlds of sense.

"Yes. He is from a planet a lot like yours, and so life evolved very similar to yours, however they are millions of years ahead of you in evolution. The Jesus you hear about today was my friend. You can meet him if you want." Tony explained.

Alfred jumped. "I want to!" He raised his hand like a child in primary school would. "And can we meet Vishnu and Zeus while we're at it?"

"Sure. I can contact them, and we can all have dinner here tonight, if that is okay with you."

"Yeah! I'll order some pizza!"

Tony nodded. Arthur's jaw dropped. Then his entire body dropped. All the data he had gathered that day hit him. Everything he never believed in just became real. It was too much for any man to take.

_Looking out the window at the rain, a locked door barricaded with a chair behind him, he would sit in the windowsill, reading, writing, and just imagining a different world. One where things that were too good to be true, could, in fact, be true._

_Below he could hear his parents screaming. Curses echoing through the many vacant halls of the mansion, he'd eventually get sick of it and pull out his Sony D-50, tuck his ears into the heavy headset, and lull himself to sleep to his favourite Sex Pistols CD. _

"_Arty, hey Arty!" An accent out of place cried. "Wake up! Wake up!"_

He opened his eyes to see the bumbling boy's blue eyes hovering over his own.

He blinked his own eyes a few times, rubbed them, and stared back blankly at Alfred.

"You missed dinner!" Alfred pouted. "It was really fun, too! Jesus was there, and he turned my Pepsi into gin and tonic, and then Rasputin got wasted. It was hella epic!"

Arthur rubbed his eyes again. "Rasputin. As in Grigori Efimovich Rasputin?" He squealed, practically like an excited fangirl - which, when it came to history, he very much was in some cases. His energy, completely revitalized in seconds.

Alfred nodded. "He's passed out in the bathroom now. The rest of the guys left, though."

Arthur practically shoved Alfred off of him and ran for the bathroom. "I have to see this!" He exclaimed, springing himself off the mattress.

He almost kicked the door of the bathroom open, and once he entered, he saw a bearded man wearing a flannel and acid wash jeans lying on the ground surrounded by emptied Pepsi cans. The face clearly of Russia's famous love machine, and a dirty beard with pizza remains in it - even with his eyes closed, it was obvious this was no doppelganger.

"That's him alright." Arthur gulped. "H-How did he get here. Is he an alien too?"

"Duh!"

"Should we wake him up?"

"... Nah."

"I still need to get a shower, and I am not cleaning myself with... THAT in the room! It is very likely he'll want to shag anything near him when he wakes up, and I am not taking that risk. Especially if I'm naked!" He ranted.

"Fine, I'll throw him in the closet or something." Alfred rolled his eyes, almost as if his mother asked him to clean the dishes... or take out the trash, for that matter. However, he quickly threw the large man over his shoulder with little to no effort, and carried him away.

_Dang that boy is strong! _

_... Say, I wonder when he deems we've "gotten to know each other." I'm growing rather impatient._

It was true that Arthur, much like the ancients he so loved, viewed sex as a casual thing. It wasn't always about love, no, it was simply an exchange of pleasure - or a weapon for that matter, and a powerful one, too. But never, ever, did he view it as an exchange exclusive to a married couple, or even two people deeply in love. It was significant, however. How appropriate, he thought, to be in Egypt, where sex was a driving human energy. Shame had no part in it, in fact, it was an activity of the gods. Arthur held this belief to the highest regard.

Throughout college, he was known as the Genghis Khan of frat boys. However, after graduating he retired somewhat. Not even a monogamous partner, he was alone again. But this time, he had his work, which he loved just as dearly one could another being. However, withdrawal symptoms, however rare, still surfaced. He needed someone, he didn't want to admit it, but he did.

_Hm, bloody Americans. They hold sex to this sacred regard. I hate it._

As the warm shower water beat down on his back, he not only worried about what they'd do with Rasputin's body, but also what he'd do with his own. Maybe if he pushed thins too far with Alfred, the man would view him as a whore, or even cheap. But it was impossible to deny the raging sexual tension between the bloody American and he, it was better to relieve it than to be strangled. _Right?_

Later that night, the two of them awkwardly stared at each other from their sides of the bed, almost fearful of lying down. Almost declaring them as the lovers Alfred was so eager to postpone dubbing of. Still in dead lock, they eventually found themselves lying on their sides gawking at each other, reading each other's minds fluently, and hesitating to speak a word of it, and finalize the eminent forces of awkward in the bedroom.

Arthur finally found the courage to cough, a quite pathetic attempt to slay the awkward dragon, nevertheless, the beast had left –for now. "So, Jesus... you met him, eh?"

"Mhm."

"Did the bloke have a dad? Was I wrong all this time? Did I publish five books for nothing?"

"Sorta."

"Excuse me?"

"Sorta." Alfred rolled his eyes. "I mean, he had a father, but Nietzsche killed him."

"Hm?"

"Well, you know when he said '_God is dead_?'"

Arthur nodded, perplexed as ever.

"He meant it. He did the deed himself."

The Englishman gasped. "No! Really?" He began laughing hysterically. "You're joking. You can't possibly mean that..." He wiped the tears of mirth from his eyes, "... Oh, you're too funny, Jones. You really are too funny..."

"Dude, I'm serious." He giggled, "Just ask Tony. Or even Jesus!"

At this point, Arthur didn't know what to accept as fact and what not to. Constantly, factual barriers were being broken down, so he eventually had to open up to it. He never thought History could be rewritten, or even approached like science was, but that was what Arthur had been observing. He could only imagine the controversy that would arise if he published something about his findings here - which, at this point, was a given. It was something so good, one could not simply avoid sharing it with the world.

He shrugged. "Jones, what am I to do with you?" He asked as his voice sunk into what was cutesy to almost seductive in nature.

"Eh?"

"You silly boy," He took a deep breath, and inched himself ever so slightly closer to Alfred, "I barely know anything about you, and ye-"

"We can change that." Alfred interrupted. "I'll show you everything – if you let me."

"I thought you wanted to wait." Arthur raised an eyebrow.

"I've waited long enough," He sat himself up and situated his body over Arthur's. "And what's a better way of getting to know each other than this?" He said, straddling the Englishman as he lifted his_ Slayer_ tee over his head. "After all, a picture is worth a thousand words."

_Where'd his silly one-piece go? Ah well, perhaps he is better in just his boxers._

"Oh my, Mr. Jones... you've proven yourself to be a rather enticing man." Arthur said, unbuttoning his shirt.

"Please, call me Alfred." He said, planting a kiss on the forehead of the professor. He lowered himself down on top of the man, and then proceeded to attack his neck, leaving small marks and paths of saliva running down to Arthur's collar bones. Each nip earning him a guttural moan from his other, his tongue quickly followed each and every hot prick, causing the hairs on the back of Arthur's neck to stick straight up. All this while Alfred removed all the clothes from Arthur's body with ease.

Alfred must have noticed the Englishman's boner, and gave said organ the attention it deserved, causing Arthur's throaty groans to escalate into pleading whimpers. "Heh... just this and you're already this big. Dang, you're just killing all the old man stereotypes, aren't 'cha?" Alfred whispered, for once in his life.

Arthur couldn't help but blush. He could only lie there and attempt to suppress his moans, which he put little effort into. He wasn't proud of it, but his claim-to-fame in college was having extremely loud sex. However, after college he never found himself in a similar situation, and so he was not prepared in the least bit when he felt his boxers slide down a bit and suddenly his entire manhood was surrounded by the hot, wet interior of Alfred's mouth.

He shrieked to the high heavens as Alfred's lips gracefully moved about his shaft, every molecule of his humid mouth supplementing the feeling of absolute bliss. Arthur could feel something of a satanic death metal growl emerging from his throat.

_It's been years since I've had a good blow job... actually, it's been precisely a decade since I've actually had one... bloody hell, I'm pathetic._

"Al... I can't..." His desperate voice cried out as he felt a complete loss of control. He tried his hardest to avoid bucking his hips right at the boy, but his efforts were to no prevail.

Alfred released Arthur's cock from his moist grip. "Not just yet, hun." He said, then dragged his eyes up Arthur's body, taking notice to ever quivering detail, and then finally staring into the man's pupils, sinking into green lust, getting smaller, and smaller.

Arthur could feel Alfred's fiery blue gaze, he could almost read Alfred's thoughts by it. It was an interesting feeling indeed, being read like a book by a semi-stranger. It was informal, it was impolite, it was crude, and – it was passionate – and it was something Arthur had longed for his entire life.

And then, Alfred whispered into his ear, "You see..." he began, hesitantly, "this is my first time with another man, and so... it'd be better if you were to take the lead." He said with a deep fusion of humility and desire.

Arthur gulped. "If you insist..."

_Oh how all the heat released from the sun could not tantamount to me right now..._

The older man hesitantly flipped the two of them over, and stared down at his prize.

_My god, is he aware of just how provocative he looks?_

He found himself running the back of his hand down Alfred's cheek, feeling the American's soft tanned skin against his own dry and pale surface. After a look that could only mean "hurry the fuck up, old man," Arthur quickly returned to the task at hand. He almost immediately slipped his long, thin fingers under Alfred's boxers, this time displaying Batman. The American let out a small, short grunt, followed by sounds of the same nature when Arthur began slowly stroking the article.

"Arthur! Dammit you amazing bastard you!" Alfred screamed.

_My, my... that'd be the first time the bloke didn't call me "Arty."_

"Calm down, love, I'm not even doing that much... but," Arthur left what he was doing, and quickly discarded of Alfred's underwear, "If you really want something special..." He grinned.

Alfred nodded. "P-Please... do me." Arthur could tell, it was taking all the man had just to push out those words, and so he treated them as special. They were words to be held to the holiest of holies, and when asked in the proper context, one could only oblige.

"One second, let me retrieve something of importance" He muttered. Then quickly left his stance over the aroused lad, and began rummaging through his bag.

_I wasn't expecting to use this, but thank heavens I brought it out here._

Grabbing the never-opened bottle, he quickly returned to his place on top of Alfred. Straddling the boy, he let him catch a glimpse of the lubricant, which triggered a sort of spark in the American.

"You, uh.."

"Hush, it was gag gift from an old friend is all. I never even fathomed the idea I would actually have the opportunity to use it..."

"B-But Earl Grey scented? Really?"

Arthur glared at the buy, hoping he'd let it go. He placed his index finger over Alfred's lips and flicked the cap off the object in question. Dragging his finger off the taller man's lips, he pushed a dab of the gooey fluid out of its tube and onto the same digit that occupied Alfred's lips just seconds ago. He teasingly waved it in the man's face before smearing some of the oily mixture around Alfred's entrance, causing him to let out a excited gasp. Yes, the sound of getting exactly what he wanted, oh how it was almost childish.

In the midst of the endearment, Arthur decided to slip in his lubed up index, causing Alfred to grunt as Arthur's finger rubbed his insides. Shockingly, he was able to udder a simple "Woah," expressing his amazement of just how pleasurable this specific brand of intercourse was. And he hadn't even received the main dish yet. "M-More... I want... you, er... your..." he moaned, looking down as Arthur was coating his member in lube with his free hand.

"Heh... you, uh, you sure about that? I'll have you know, even with sufficient amounts of lubrication, it can hurt."

"I don't care... I want your cock, Arthur."

And with that, how could the Englishman resist? He gave his length a few good last pumps before situating it at the starting point, and in one fluid motion, sliding it into the younger man. Alfred's moan escalating the deeper he got, until he was all the way in. He looked down to assure that the boy, now gasping for air, was okay, and then whispered in his ear, "I'm going to start moving now. If it hurts too much, please, let me know. You see, I'm not the type to hold back quite easily..." He said, fighting for air himself as he took in the feeling of Alfred's tight muscles wrapping around his manhood.

"Please... do that, K-Kirkland, sir..." Alfred said, pleadingly. Arthur almost died at what he had just been called. It was ever so sexy the way he said it, and it just urged him to pleasure the lad all the more.

"Right." He grunted out, as he cautiously began driving his cock in and out of his now moaning - like a madman - partner.

Alfred's grip on Arthur's shoulders tightened, and he bit down on his lip as he felt Arthur begin to thrust in and out of him. But slowly, he opened his eyes, and his grip lessened as the Englishman sped up his thrusts, and hit him deeper. He watched as Alfred's expression grew from pain to pure pleasure. His grunts turning into uncontrollable screams of the sort, resonating with the Arthur's own deep, throaty groans.

"A-Arthur! You, you're amazing!" He bellowed out, catching his breath after every word and every push in him, "H-Harder! Please... more!" And so, Arthur threw away any sense or desire to go easy on the boy, and began aggressively thrusting into the American, again, giving the kid just what he wanted, and again, he moaned in satisfaction. Arthur could only contribute to the noise.

With their two hot, sweaty bodies rubbing against each other as Arthur slammed that sweet spot in Alfred with all of his god-given force, it wasn't long until both of them felt they were going to have to cut the endeavor short. The friction was too much for any man to take.

"Al... are you quite near your... finish? B-because I am." He whispered under his shrieks. His hot, humid breath hitting Alfred's exposed neck.

"Ahh... yes. M-May I?"

"Of course."

Alfred arched his back, pressing his body even tighter against Arthur as he threw his head over and came with a shout of the name of his opposite. It wasn't even a half-second before Arthur found himself doing the same, squirting his seed deep into Alfred, earning the man his last, beautiful moan from the boy's lips.

He collapsed onto Alfred, muttering something along the lines of, "You make an amazing pillow," and then falling into another deep sleep. But not before Alfred was snoring.

They awoke, piled on top of each other like two bricks, and their eyes met again for the first time since they made love. Again, paragraphs of exchange in a simple glare had occurred between the two.

As the memories hit both of them, so did feelings. Feelings they didn't expect, but were too physical to just deny the existence of. They both deduced that the other felt the same, and Alfred was the first to act on the mutual thought. He leaned over and gently kissed Arthur on the forehead, whispering a sweet, "Good morning, hunny," in his ear.

Arthur's eyes widened as it all hit him around the same time as Alfred's lips. "W-Wait... we had a bloody shag last night, didn't we?" He barked.

Alfred stared at him and nodded as if the man were crazy. "Yeah... and?"

"Well... uh..." Arthur struggled to find his words, or even a point for that matter. He was shocked, but not particularly mad. "It was... er..." he drawled. Finally he cleared his throat, and remarked in a very formal manner, "It was fucking awesome and I look forward to it again." He spoke as if it were to the queen, yet the words themselves something he couldn't even say in front of his own mother.

"Alrighty then!" Alfred smiled. "Oh! And did you check your facebook recently? Everyone added you!"

"Er, no..." Arthur moved his eyes off the lad and over to his phone, sitting lonely as ever on his nightstand. He quickly reached for it, "I guess I have a lot of requests to accept," he sighed, "I'll do it now... happy?"

Alfred nodded. "Oh, and we added some pictures from the part-"

"OH MY GOD!" Arthur shrieked down at his device, "I hope your friends know my mother is on my facebook! I-I can't believe they'd post these!"

"What?"

"Pictures from my first night here of me buck naked, only they pasted a smiley face over my cock..."

Alfred chuckled. "That's Gilbert for you!"

Arthur slapped his forehead, his eyebrows furrowed in devastation, "Oh deary me... what's Mum going to think?" He looked back down at his device, to see the rest of the photo album consisting pictures of the awkward, yet unfortunately passionate kiss he and Alfred had shared. He rubbed his temples at the horrific sentence to follow.

_You have one comment_

_Margie Kirkland: lol nice one, Arty-poo. Glad to see you're making new friends!_

"Oh dear lord... she... uh..." Arthur cringed at the simple thought that his mother saw those pictures, and not only did she see them, she was perfectly fine with them. He'd never understood his mother. Why she married that rich bastard, why she didn't leave him after everything he did, or why she always wore a smile, no matter what. She was the best mother he could ever ask for, and to have her see that her 33 year old son was partying naked with some kids in uni, and snogging what looked like an "Abercrombie model," as she later commented - well, he just couldn't fathom why she was so glad. He knew he wouldn't be. It was nothing to be proud of.

"You okay, Arty? I mean, I can tell them to take the photos down..." Alfred asked, seeming like he felt somewhat responsible for what his friends had done.

"No, no..." Arthur rejoined, "it's too late, anyway..." He mumbled. "What's done is done."

Alfred shrugged. "If you say so..." He paused, then finally started chuckling, Arthur's eyes darted to him suspiciously, "Then I take it you've given me the okay to have them upload the uncensored ones!"

His suspicions were confirmed, and he glared at Alfred.

"Then that's a yes?"

Silence. Nothing but burning green eyes.

"Good. They'll be up in a minute or so... actually, it might take a while, though... they're pretty hi-res! You can see all the detail. Props to Gilbert's phone camera."

Arthur silently glared. After what felt like hours of silence, he finally decided to ask what was on his mind... "Just, how hi-res are we talking here?" He asked, as if he were interrogating a criminal

"Oh... I'd say about 17 mega-pixels." Alfred said, playing along with the criminal role. He raised one eyebrow, and the corners of his mouth twitched into a smirk, he glared right back at Arthur, trying to push a reaction out of a man.

"Fine..." He bluffed, rolling his eyes as if it didn't phase him that his _naked in church_ nightmare wasn't too far from becoming true. "But you're in them too, and I hope you know, it was quite obvious just how hard you were when we kissed," he retorted, smirking in an even more sadistic fashion than the one staring at him.

"Hm, then we're even, no?"

"One may say so."

"Good."

"Good."

And with that, the two of them quickly dressed, and resolved that they weren't making breakfast that morning, so the tent it was.

* * *

><p>Thank you for reading! I'm sorry if this is a little short... but do remember to reviewcomment/or whatever... sorry, I'm very new to this...

Yes, this was inspired by ancient aliens, just a bit. And yes, things are happening pretty fast, but I wanted to establish something early on so their relationship can really develop when certain... _things_ happen. MUAHAH.

Oh, and I will be updating on my tumblr firstly, so if you are interested, my tumblr name is therewillbebreakfast

I really hope you enjoyed ;-)


	2. Further Investigation

__Here's chapter 2! I really hope you like it, and please, please review!

* * *

><p><em>The year was 1995. Arthur sat uncomfortably squished in between fellow pubescent messes all touchy-feely around him.<em>

'_I brought it upon myself. I didn't have to go here. I didn't have to drink. I could have tried my best to kiss a girl...'_

_Women had actually offered to "hook up with him," despite his zit-clad skin, thick-rims, braces, and caterpillar brows. His only problem was that he wasn't drawn to girls, and he didn't know how to come to terms with that. So he sat awkwardly in between couples of fellow sixteen-year-old nothings feeling each other up, and sipped down some beer (which was unfortunately the only beverage available.) _

_Suddenly, a woman with shoulder length blonde hair and equally desperate green eyes approached him. After rubbing his own eyes a few times, he could match the face to a name. _

_It was Belle Bonnefey, the sister of Francis Bonnefey, the only person in the school aware of Arthur's sexuality. He wondered if she knew as well, and that she was going to offer to get him out of there, which was quite impossible at that moment. She was Francis' younger sister, so it was likely the man had told her... or, at least he hoped so._

_But, it seemed to be a false lead. She drunkenly trudged over to him and asked if he was willing to "engage in a little fun."_

'_Blast!… so she doesn't know...'_

_Arthur could only reply with "Well, you see... I uh..." He couldn't do it. No, if he came out then and there everyone would know. He couldn't. And if he rejected her offer, he'd find people would be rather suspicious for turning down a girl like her. No, if he wanted to blend in - to be normal - he had to soldier through this. _

_He hung his head and nodded, and before he knew it, she threw the 90 pound boy over her shoulders and carried him upstairs, and threw him on the bathroom floor before throwing off her top. _

'… _Shit, shit... this is not good! She expects me to... oh no, no, no... this isn't happening! Oh god she unzippered my trousers... and she's... she's stoking my penis! W-What am I to do? I have to get hard, I just have to... hmm... think... yeah, just close your eyes and pretend it's... it's... er... Hmm... Sid Vicious... I mean.. he, uh... it's... it's not THAT weird. Uh...'_

_He looked down and noticed his little plan was working smoothly. He quickly shut his eyes again so as not to ruin the effect._

'_This is running smoother than I expecte- SHIT. GOD NO THAT IS NOT WHAT I THINK I FEEL... It's... it's okay... stick to the plan Arty, and no one will think anything. Hah! You'll be totally normal to everyone else... just run with it.'_

_But, being the dedicated fanboy he was, and having a very powerful imagination, it was all too much for the lad to take, and it hadn't been 40 seconds until he found him self ejaculating inside of his best friend's sister shouting "Sid!"_

_Obviously embarrassed, he opened his eyes to see Belle glaring daggers at him. "What the bloody hell was that about?" _

"_N-Nothing... Uh n-nothing at all! Really, I swear!" Arthur cried frantically. _

_She crossed her arms, "Who's Sid?" She asked, still with malice embedded in her emerald eyes._

"_Sid... S-Sid... " He gulped. He knew that whatever he said could permanently fuck his reputation, so he just went with the truth, "Sid Vicious." He said, shamefully as he sat up and zippered his pants. _

"_Oh..." She gave him a quizzical stare, "Right... I, uh, I should've known you were..."_

_Arthur hid his face in his palms, although he would have preferred a rock at the time. Or a pistol._

"_Sorry." She sighed, "I didn't know... if I did, I wouldn't have..."_

"_It's fine. Just... do me one favor."_

"_Hm?"_

"_Don't... don't tell anyone... that... that I'm gay." _

"_The secret is safe with me."_

...

It had been the first time in 17 years he saw her face. It was still as energetic and youthful as ever. That confident smile from cheek-to-cheek, and her ever so lightly wavy blond hair bouncing about as she strutted forward.

_Just what is she doing here... shit... I have to hide..._

He immediately stuck his head in a book as she passed the table he and Alfred were seated at. However, it was no use.

"Arthur? Is that you?" She asked excitedly, running over and pulling the book from his face. "Oh it is!" Belle practically jumped for joy and then dove down into a hug. Alfred stared.

Arthur coughed, pushing himself out of the woman's grasp. "Allow me to introduce you two. Belle, this is Alfred, my roommate. Alfred, Belle, an old friend from high school..."

The two playfully waved at each other.

"Wow, Arthur! Looking as cute as ever I see!" She exclaimed, pinching his cheeks and giggling, "You know, if it was not for that horrid shag, we could have been married by now!" She exclaimed, tugging the man's earlobes.

"Hey!" Alfred banged his fist on the table. "I think Arty is pretty damn good at sex!" He bragged, "We just had some last night, and-"

Arthur opened his mouth in protest, but not before Belle took the empty slot, "Hah, he lasted forty seconds - not even!"

The two laughed. Arthur wailed. Life was good.

"Hey, Arty, I didn't know you had sex with girls, too!"

"N-No... it was, er.. hard to explain.."

Belle raised her hand and sang, "I'll tell~" And so, she retold the story of her coming on to Arthur, and him pretending it was the murderous bassist of the _Sex Pistols_ while she rode him, and how it took precisely 37 seconds until he had to let it all out.

Yet again, the younger two laughed deviously at the poor man and his less-than-pathetic story. Arthur tried his best to hide his face behind his teacup and try not to care, but his reddening cheeks and his climaxing humiliation were somewhat impossible to ignore. He was usually very proud of himself in a sexual regard, but that one story was a reputation crusher, he didn't want Alfred knowing it. But it was too late, anyways. No amount of bickering could undo this one.

The two seemed to converse for awhile while Arthur was lost in the newspaper he found refuge in. Yet again, headlines of political scandals, murder, and what new thing will give you cancer this week spanned the length of the flimsy paper.

He could vaguely hear a conversation in the background, but tried his best to disregard it.

"_So, you're telling me he isn't all that bad in bed?"_

"_Not at all!"_

_This isn't happening. Oh god, he's not going to want to do anything with me now. Nice one, Arthur. And I was really looking forward to the bloke, too. He's so much more... eh..._

Before his thoughts pondered too far, he peaked his head over the paper, and to his relief, the blond woman was walking away, waving and shouting "We'll have to catch up later."

Arthur tried to avoid eye contact with the American after that, but, yet again, Alfred's eyes were blue suns, thousands, no, millions times hotter than that of their moderate yellow star. It was the sort of thing you want to gaze into, to fathom the amount of energy that goes into it, and feel yourself engulfed in its warmth. Those were Alfred's eyes.

_Again with the bloody science metaphors! Somethings up. Something is definitely up with me._

"Y-You okay there, Kirkburger? You've been staring for a while..." Alfred asked.

"W-Whoa! Whoa! I never agreed to Kirkburger!" Arthur retorted as if defending what was left of his dignity.

Alfred smiled, gave a gentle sigh, and spoke into his glass of orange juice as he took a sip, "Fine, fine. But are you okay? You seem a little off..."

"Oh... well..." He hummed, "It's just that..."

"You're embarrassed?"

"Y-Yes."

Alfred chortled. "It's nothing to be embarrassed of, really! My first time was no better."

Arthur was silent. Naturally, his curiosity demanded him to learn just _how _it was no better than his own. This was now a matter of competition, and so he begged the boy to go on through a curious stare.

"I, uh..." Alfred rubbed the back of his head, obviously nervous, if only a bit, "Well... it was Junior year, I made the winning touch down at the homecoming game, and naturally, that made me the sexiest guy in school. Women were all over me, so naturally I gave in eventually." Alfred recalled, gazing above his head as if there was a memory bubble displaying the entire anecdote, "She was a devious senior - borderline dominatrix, in fact - and she threw me in a bathroom stall at homecoming, tore off my clothes, blew me..." The casual nature Alfred said such things was really an object of envy, "When we were done, she duct taped me to the wall, took my clothes, and left - but not before putting photos online! But the worst part was that I was stuck in there all night until the janitor finally found me! And boy, she wasn't too happy..."

Arthur couldn't help but snicker. "I suppose, but it doesn't foil a performance record on your part."

"Still worse!" Alfred contended.

"Yes, yes, you have me on that one. Yours was much more unfortunate indeed." He said, giggling eminent in his tone.

_By jove, I've found the only man in the world who can not only tolerate me, but actually enjoys my company..._

"Hey, Arthur!" Alfred's voice suspiciously jumped. "Look at this news article!" He exclaimed, suddenly pulling the newspaper off the table, and held it as a curtain between them and the rest of the world. Anxiously, Alfred's lips collided into Arthur's.

Violent, but sweet. Nothing too sexual, yet not your eight-grade hormonal-impulse driven kiss: It was just perfect for the moment.

_That unpredictable twit... usually I'd find this intrusive, but it's lovely, really..._

Briefly existing, and then parting by about an inch, it was short, sweet, and to the point. "We should get to work. We're not going to get too much time together here... but this weekend, we could borrow Gilbert's Volkswagen and drive into Cairo, find a nice restaurant, stay in a hotel, you catch my drift, right?"

Arthur nodded. "Yes, but where is the money for this coming from?"

"Some old trading cards I put on Ebay were just sold for 50 grand. I think that'll cover it." Alfred smiled.

"B-But-"

"-No buts! I desire to live out my Indiana Jones fantasy, and I'm taking you with me! After all, Indie always gets a sweet love making scene!" He giggled.

Arthur urged Alfred to lower the newspaper. "If you want ancient treasure hunting, deary, you needn't drive anywhere. You're right at the center of it." He paused. "However, a trip to Cairo would be lovely. A good look at the pyramids is never out of season."

Alfred rolled his eyes, they both smiled and then went their separate ways.

Analyzing the craft resumed exactly where they off yesterday - trivial things like dusting off relics, trying their hardest not to celebrate like the history-geeks they were when they discovered something of significance, and then more cleaning, of course.

Side conversations consisted of world wars and opera, wines and politics, also the occasional Monty Python reference on Artur's part. He frowned when no one understood the joke.

"Oh come on!" He hissed humorously, "But nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition!"

The two stared vacantly at him. He sighed, and mumbled, "And now for something completely different..."

The day continued just as any, exhausting the man to no end, so much so that he dreaded making the short pilgrimage to the location he now called home.

To no surprise, when he arrived in the doorway, there was Alfred, eating gummy worms and sporting penguin-clad lounge pants and his usual sparkly glow.

Arthur rolled his eyes, "Those gummy worms won't do you much good." he sighed, sitting himself next to Alfred, "How about ordering some real food?"

Alfred pouted, "But only if it's mozzarella sticks. And you're paying."

"Fine," Growled Arthur. He snatched the phone from in between two couch cushions, "Who do I call?"

Alfred let out a monstrous yawn and said, "Check the menu on the table. Just ask for a guy called Gupta when they answer."

"Right." replied Arthur. He stepped aside closer to the table, then looked down at the menu that read something along the lines of 'Cairo Pizza' but Arthur wasn't too good with Arabic, so he just focused on the digits that followed.

Two rings, and what a young woman answered. Speaking in a language he wasn't perfectly familiar with. Even if Arthur was a linguist, his strength was in western languages. Nevertheless, he could assume most people in a bumbling city like Cairo spoke English, so this wasn't much of a problem.

"Yes, hello." Arthur paused. "Excuse me, I hope I'm not imposing by asking this in English, but my Arabic is weak and..."

"No, no. It is fine. Go on."

"Oh, yes. Thank you. Anyway, would it be quite alright if I spoke to Gupta?"

"Yes. I will call for him."

A few seconds later and the man was on the phone.

"Hello?" He answered, sounding a little confused.

"Yes, I would like to order er..." Arthur turned away from the phone, "Mozzarella sticks, was it?" Alfred nodded. "Sorry, I would like one order of mozzarella sticks... enough for two. And can you deliver it to the site of the recent UFO discovery?"

"Sure. We'll have it there in about an hour."

"Thanks."

Arthur hung up the phone, and sat back next to Alfred.

"Thanks, bro."

He sighed. "I'm not your 'bro', we're simply co-workers."

Alfred giggled, "That's it?" He looked over to Arthur, "That's all we are?" He tilted his head, "because I hardly think so." He said suggestively.

"Well... I suppose... if you put it that way, we're not indigenous to co-worker interactions, no..." He mused. "But, as of yet, I daresay that we're lovers or anything of a similar nature. Being that lovers tend to have intercourse regularly and..."

"Ah, come on, dude! Quit being so scientific! I get enough of that in the lab!" Alfred exclaimed.

Arthur laughed. "You're right. This is hardly a scientific matter. The complexity of romance isn't simply chemical, I suppose..." He took a short peek at Alfred's grinning face, then turned away and continued, "If we wish to put a term to it, we must not observe, but feel."

Alfred chuckled. "Exacta-mundo!"

They peeked at each other again.

"So then, Bazerkland, how do you feel, romantic wise? About us?" Alfred smiled.

"_Bazerkland?" ... oh god what's next?_

"Uh. I, er..." Arthur droned. "It's a rather... awkward question. When two souls such as us share this sort of tension, it's best not to acknowledge it without the help of alcohol. Props for being bold, though..." He stated nervously. It was clear he was trying to hide the fact that this was the first time Arthur had bonded with someone on this level. Sad, indeed, because what they had wasn't even that much yet.

_How I feel, huh?_

This was one of those questions he hated to answer. He hated to talk about how he felt, he hated the notion that his feelings mattered. He felt they were just evolutionary baggage, yet we'd be inhuman without them. Essentially, the root of all human imperfection was emotion to him. He preferred to avoid it. Perfection always sounds lovelier - as lonely as it can be.

"Well. I see potential." He paused. "In, er, us. I've never really gotten too close to anyone, so being stuck with you, naturally, I expect things will..."

He was being too open. He knew it. He did it anyway. If Alfred couldn't understand, it just meant it wasn't right, and he could ignore the boy altogether. Still, he refused to repress his words. It was one thing he could never do.

"So, you're saying I just rub yah' the right way?" Alfred giggled, for the trillionth time in the three days they'd known each other. "Good. It's kinda like that with me too."

"Ah, uh..." He hung his head, as if to be ashamed, "Indeed." He coughed. "So be it. We're... we're something. Yes, I rather like that term. Ambiguous, it leaves room."

Alfred smiled.

_Does he know what I'm... no, he couldn't possibly tell._

This was good. Yes, monumentally so. This wasn't going to be some "awkward-touchy-feely-hide-your-emotions-until-it's-too-late" sort of charade that Arthur so despised, and even used to justify the fact that he'd been single ever since he graduated college. This wasn't some fool nagging at him about some impulsive need of "closure," and why he "loves his research more than them." Even if being in a relationship required he talk about his feelings, or even acknowledge them, he could trust Alfred. The man wasn't going to stab his back, because they shared an "out-sider's" view of the world. Both of them were existential to the furthest degree, although Alfred had much better social skills, as Arthur would honestly admit. Nevertheless, this was the first time he could actually see a potential monogamous relationship in sight.

_I'm handling this like a science... am I really that anxious about the bloke? Better yet, am I really this desperate... no, lonely... I need this. Don't I?_

The rest of the week went by in a somewhat orderly manner. It was an opportunity to get comfortable. Side for a horrid case of sunburn, that is...

"Damn... It's only Wednesday." Mumbled Arthur as he pulled out his keys and practically fell into the door as he opened it. His burning skin crashing against the cold wooden floor, immediately his entire body welled up in pain.

From above he could hear those innocent giggles he'd grown to well... _tolerate_.

"Dude, you okay? You're all red." Alfred squatted down next to the now writhing in pain Englishman.

He could only grunt as an answer. His muscles stiffened to the point that he found himself unable to move.

"Here... let's get you fixed up. We don't want you all red and in pain for our date, now do we?" He propped his arms under Arthur and lifted him up onto the couch, then released the man from his arms, watched him writhe up and collapse like a dead plant, then Alfred bolted off to retrieve something from the cabinets above the sink.

Arthur groaned, "What exactly are you going to do? I mean, sunburn takes forever to wear off... Especially for pasty blokes like me..."

Alfred looked over his shoulder at Arthur, smiled, and said, "Don't worry man! I got'cha covered." He pulled out a clear tube of green gel from the cabinet and walked back over towards his patient.

Arthur propped himself up to get a better look at the container, unfortunately it lacked a label. "What are you going to do with... that?" He asked, pointing his eyes as the equally green bottle.

Alfred sat himself behind the red man. "It's aloe! This'll fix you up in no time!" He said, reaching his arms over the man's shoulders and unbuttoning Arthur's shirt. "Having a worry-wart of a mom pays off sometimes!" He smiled, poured some aloe in his palm, rubbed his hands together, and began delicately applying it to Arthur's shoulders, gently massaging the pain away. "How's it feel?"

Arthur was impressed. It had a lovely cooling effect, plus the conceptual aesthetic of Alfred rubbing it all over him was equally pleasing. "It feels lovely. Soothing indeed." He cleared his throat, "T-Thanks for this... and... everything else." Said Arthur. He leaned back, shut his eyes, and let Alfred's hands brush the silky mixture over his shoulders, and down his chest, relieving the irritation and burning everywhere the American touched.

"So, you're going to..." Alfred's hands slowed,"You're gonna be alright, yes?" he asked.

Arthur let out a hum, almost a grunt, but too candid. "Don't worry your little head. This happens to me all the time." Arthur chortled, "If you would lend me some of that lovely melanin of yours, we wouldn't be having this problem." He mused, catering to Alfred's forensic specialty.

Alfred joined in, "With technology these days... yah' never know." He smiled at Arthur, "but I'll be keeping my tan to myself, thank you very much."

Arthur turned around and cupped his chin, meticulously analyzing the man's features.

"What background are you..." He asked, squinting slightly for an alternate view of his subject.

"Uh... American." Alfred replied quizzically.

"No, no, you're not an indigenous, are you? You've blue eyes and dirty blond hair." He analyzed further, grasping the boy's cheekbones, manipulating his head to move in various directions, so to have a full perspective of his face. "I mean, genetically. Your genes. Where are they from? Most of you Americans like to obsess over the culture of your ancestors, don't you?"

Alfred laughed. "I guess. But not my family - they're the height of Americana; refuse to recognize European culture, in fact, they completely reject it. They think you guys are too 'liberal', or something." Alfred rolled his eyes, expressing his frustrations with his family.

_Likely that sort of family would enjoy hearing the lovely news of their son dating an older British man... yes, one that writes books about sex habits of the classical period, lovely... ah, I don't want to have him disowned... maybe I should just leave now and save he and his parents the feud..._

"So, I'm sure they're not too fond of well..."

"That's the thing..." Alfred mentioned nervously, "They don't... they don't know. They think I'm here in Egypt on a mission hading out bibles or something..." Alfred paused and smiled, "I made a really convincing pamphlet, too. They're convinced I'm spreading some evangelical dogma or something."

Arthur sighed. "Lovely. So do you plan on telling them?"

"I don't know if I can... I mean, I love my parents and all... but... if I told them, I doubt they'd..." Yet again, he tipped the serious-minded statement with a chuckle, "it'd be easier if I had your mom. We've been chatting on facebook lately..."

"Oh no... you didn't..."

Alfred chuckled, "She's proud of you, y'know? Like really proud. Like last night she was wondering when the wedding is and what color she should wear... - proud."

Arthur sighed again, but balanced it out with a smile. "Yup, that's mum for you. She's probably thrilled that I'm actually interacting with humans for once..." He coughed, directing the conversation back to the original subject. "So, you don't know of your ethnic background..."

"Nah. And why does it matter to you, anyway? It's irrelevant." Alfred rolled his eyes.

"I studied anthropology in college as well. It's just curiosity, is all." Arthur shrugged.

"So, you have a diagnosis, or what? I mean, you were examining me just now..." Replied Alfred, smiling as brightly as ever.

"I haven't the slightest idea. I'd need a good look at your genes before making a solid deduction." He laughed.

"I think I can arrange that. Later, of course. I'd prefer a real lab and not the makeshift tent packed with a bunch of boisterous Germans."

There was a mutual understanding that the two of them would not engage in any sort of sexual activity until Arthur's sunburn healed, but that didn't stop Alfred from employing the occasional playful spank on the bottom, or running his hand up Arthur's thigh under the table, or even cuddling the poor man to strangulation in his sleep. Still, they both established that they should at least buy each other dinner before things went... _further_... ..._again_.

And, the much awaited Friday finally arrived. Arthur found his eyes on his wrist watch for the better part of the work day. He casually faded in and out of conversation with his colleagues to find himself day dreaming about the doting - yet grotesque in a lovely way - American that he had come to know (and more) over the past few days.

_I never knew I could anticipate a mere occasion such as this so unhealthily. Damn, I must be obsessed or something... anxious to dig my teeth into that lad, aren't I?_

_Teeth... right. Not unless he asks for it, Arthur. I have to make sure not to wake the sleeping giant... or, er, resurrect Genghis Khan of the frat boys - as they say. _

Delicacy was something Arthur wasn't too familiar with, and he was well aware. After finally peaking out of the window of his mind sanctuary, he realized he had all but crushed the pencil he was supposed to be filling out paperwork with. The led was now smeared all over his notes. Arthur glared at the paper as if it was the pencil's fault, then looked back at the others to see them looking at him with concern.

Arthur cleared his throat and began to speak, hopefully to win back their naive view of him, "So, uh... anything?"

"Yes." Replied the Austrian. "More results from the lab. We found some kind of newt in a cryogenic storage device. Turns out it's not from out planet, and it's chemical make-up is completely different." He continued.

"So, essentially," Kiku joined, "We've discovered the first non-carbon based life form. And all while you were fiddling with that pencil of yours." He rolled his eyes. "I know this is all shocking, Kirkland-san... I really do. But please, try to keep up. You seem distracted, and-"

"Me? Distracted. Hm, I doubt it." Arthur interrupted. "Little do you know I've been rooming with one of the blokes from the lab, and he was actually the first one to discover a non-carbon based life form." Arthur gave a cocky smile, "And it told us about itself. Yes, men, this was no mere newt." He bragged. neglecting to mention the fact that he was passed out while Alfred actually interrogated the grey man. The notes were even in his sloppy print, a vast contrast from Arthur's perfected cursive calligraphy. "I actually have his chemical makeup here, along with coordinates to his home planet, information regarding his species, and more." He held up the clipboard like a proud father would his son after hitting a home run.

He could only smirk when he saw the faces of his piers light up. Roderich quickly snatched the document from Arthur's hands and began examining it with Kiku.

"This is amazing, Mr. Kirkland. But where did you even find this information?" Roderich admired.

"Like I told you, we were told it. I know it's hard to believe, but there really was a little grey man. My roommate happened to befriend him. You don't have to believe me, please, I encourage skepticism... that is, until everything on that paper is proven as fact." He boasted.

The two nodded. "Truly a stunning achievement, Kirkland-san. Send our regards to your roommate as well."

_Lovely, just lovely. I can even afford laziness and daydreaming. My sunburn is gone, I'm done peeling, and now I have a certain night with a certain someone that will consist of... certain things... hopefully gin. Lots of gin._

Finally, after hours of day dreaming, Arthur and his group were dismissed for the week. He couldn't help but feel guilty as they walked back to their temporary residences, knowing he was going to be in a comfy bed in some Marriot or Hilton with crisp, conditioned, cool air, room service, high-speed wifi, a bathtub with jets, and best of all, He would finally have Alfred Jones all to himself.

Prior to their work day, Alfred had given him basic directions to the parking lot where Gilbert kept his car. Arthur walked over, a duffel packed with enough clothing to last him a weekend of unsuspected occasions in tow, and made his way to parking slot C-6.

But he could've identified the car from miles away. It was a bright red, shining convertible, but most of all, it was noisy. And Alfred wasn't the only one there.

Gilbert was also there, his red eyes even redder than the car itself and its shimmering blood paint, along with that deranged woma- er,Elizaveta, and what sounded indescribably grotesque and artificial bursting from the stereos.

So there they were, bobbing their heads to the alien noise, Alfred sent Arthur a wave, in reply the Englishman only rolled his eyes back and pressed his forehead to the crevice in between his thumb and index. He walked closer, battling with pros and cons of his choice. He could've ran there, and be done with it - but nevertheless, it seemed too interesting to turn down.

"Yo, Art-Master-Five-Thousand, 'whassap?" The ever-pale German shouted.

Arthur growled. "That's a new one." He glared. His tolerance of nicknames had decreased since their last encounter. He was fine with being more bitter towards it now, and so his smirk grew exponentially, "Girl-bert." He said as if the wittiest reply to be conjured. The three college students only stared in awe. Pitiful awe, that is.

It was silent, but then they laughed. All Arthur could do was hang his head and climb into the obnoxiously red car, sinking into the plush leather seats right next to some broad that appeared to have the hots for him, despite his obvious effeminacy and lack of interest in humans of that category. She stared at him smugly, laughing along with the two men. Her index finger suspiciously tucked between two teeth, and her eyes mimicking his own.

He crossed his arms, "And what's this filth you have on?" He asked maliciously, "can I even call it music."

"Aw, c'mon, bro! This is Baked Australopithecus - only the hottest dubstep group on the market!" Alfred argued cutely. "It isn't filth, it's genius!"

"Right." He scoffed. "It sounds like Robotic intercourse, is what it is..."

"That's actually the name of this track," Elizaveta interrupted. "Nice going!"

Over the course of his case against the musical blasphemy, he had failed to notice the car had started, and was speeding through the desert sands. He only was made aware of this, however, when a chunk of sand flew out from under the car and smeared over his glasses. He wanted to shout, but he couldn't find himself doing so against the fifty-something Gs of wind blowing in his face. His hair was practically glued back by the wind and his entire body shivering by the time the half-hour drive was over. He didn't bother talking, in fact, he couldn't - and he'd be damned if asked how the others lacked impact from the strong wind blasting at them as they finally drove into Cairo, the city streets bustling with markets, traffic, what sounded worse than Angry New-Yorkers in a bad jam, and the faint sound of indigenous music could be heard beyond it all.

It appeared the students were quite amazed by the aesthetic of the rustic and antique, yet bustling and boisterous city. However, Arthur was all too familiar with the scene. He had been there a thousand times, given hundreds of lectures at the universities locally, and had joined countless investigative efforts on the pyramids surrounding the city. Nevertheless, he could never get tired of it. Cairo had something about it. Whatever it was, it sparkled a nostalgic glow in him, he felt warm, and not only from the sun.

And just like that, they were parked in front of the Marriott. Handing the keys to the valet, the four of them exited the vehicle in a somewhat posh manner and entered the lobby which was just as crowded as the city itself. After scanning the diverse populous of the hotel lobby, Arthur turned his head over to the front desk to see Alfred frivolously negotiating with the lady at the front desk. He could only feel worried. But now that the treacherous ride in was done, Arthur felt at ease. And no silly American was going to ruin that. If anything, he could contribute to the enjoyment. But that all depended on whether or not Arthur could get him alone.

Within the next few hours, he found himself in a bar, slamming shots of god-knows-what down his throat. Apparently he had challenged quite the drinking champion, and was locked in a heated drinking competition with his opponent.

"Heh, you sure can drink a lot for your little size." The Turkish man remarked.

Arthur growled and took another shot, slamming it on the table after he felt the stinging juices trickle down his throat. He through his head back before taking another.

Alfred, Elizaveta, Gilbert, and a whole crowd of cheering drunkards surrounded the battle ground - a table, if you must - cheering in many languages, but all exclaiming the same thing "Chug, chug!"

And so they did. For hours and hours. Although neither or them, nor anyone else in the bar can remember that night clearly, it was one they'd never forget - or at least what bits they would recall.

"Arthur, Arthur!" He heard a gruff, familiar voice calling for him. He only moaned, his brain incapable of functioning. "Arthur get up, it's almost time for supper!" The voice giggled. Wait. He knew that laugh. He couldn't ignore it. No, no. This was bad news. Bad news indeed.

His top half shot up from the cloud-esque bed, "Allistor!" He shouted angrily. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing here!" He shrieked.

"Shush. You'll wake... erm," Allistor stared at the sleeping blond, "Do excuse me, I am not aware of his name..." He replied lightly, referring to the man who's arms were still wrapped around Arthur's hips, sleeping like a baby.

_Oh. Oh dear. Last night... it's a blur, but..._

The ginger giggled. "Arthur, you never told me any of this. Although..." Arthur glared at him, "I kind of expected it." The older man smiled. "Hopefully you've improved since..."

"Fuck you." Arthur growled. "Do go away. You have no business being here." Arthur glared at his step brother as a snake would his prey. However, this prey was not to be underestimated.

"So feisty at such an early hour, are we? Sheesh! I just need to tell you something important." He avowed. "Wake up the sleepyhead, will you?"

Arthur rolled his eyes.

_...He's well dressed. This must be important. Another mission perhaps? But what have I got to do with it..._

He nudged Alfred a few times, "Alfred, deary... wake up. I know you're hung-over, hell, I am too, but..." He dragged on as his brother stared at him in that authoritative way. Pale green eyes pointed straight at him, locked and loaded.

Slowly, Alfred woke, apparently unaware of Allistor. "Morning, Arthur..." He said, "You were amazing last night," he admired, kissing Arthur on the cheeks. Arthur expected something like that, given the depths of his hangover at the moment, nevertheless, he still turned a light shade of pink.

Allistor hid his mouth behind his hand, as if he shouldn't be giggling, but he had to. He quickly coughed it off, cleared his throat, and began after getting their attention, "Alright, lovebirds - here's the case."

Alfred have a questioning look to Arthur, and Arthur confirmed he knew nothing of it, and then they both looked up at the Scotsman.

"You are some of the first humans to discover evidence of human-alien interaction for thousands of years." He stated. The two only nodded in reply. "This would be fine and dandy, if not for a certain group of people trying to keep this history under wraps - as the lost chapter of humanity. They have assassins ready to kill everyone and anyone who knows about it. They have a set date for the killings, apparently during the American 'Super Bowl.' They have been surveying the crash site, and noticed you were missing earlier this morning. They're out looking for you now. If you don't come with me, I fear they will find you, and they will kill you." Allistor paused, looking worried. "You have two choices: stay here and be killed, or work under me, help me stop them, and have a chance at surviving."

They could only stare.

"So... what'll it be?"

* * *

><p>Don't worry, you'll learn just what happened the night before soon enough. Anywho, I really, really hope you liked this, it wasn't too exciting of a chapter. Anyway, please do take the time to review! Thank you so much!<p> 


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